If That's Movin' Up Then I'm Movin' Out

I've moved into my new place and finally feel like I'm settling in. There are still a few boxes to unpack and place, a few pictures and art to put up, and a few pieces of furniture I'll have to rearrange (including the 6 ft long, mid-century mod credenza I'm buying today for only $45 - sweeeeet!) but for the most part it's beginning to feel like home.

Putting a bit of a damper on all my excitement is the fact that I've got this strange pain in my abdomen since Friday night, on my right side between my rib cage and my hip bone. I went to the doctor and he checked for a hernia since I'd been moving but didn't seem to think that was it. We took bloodwork -- he said it seemed my liver was a little tender -- and it'll be Tuesday before I get the results back. Who knows, it might be nothing but a torn muscle deep in there somewhere from the move. I swear, if it's not one thing it's another. Grrrrrr.

Still and all, being alone has been enjoyable. I haven't missed my roommate at all. When I look around my place and know that it's all mine, I feel content and satisfied. There are cicadas in the trees outside of my patio and I can sip my tea while I listen to them sing to me in the evenings. They stir my memories of lazy childhood summers in Illinois. I cook myself a great meal and I don't worry about whether another person will like it. I don't miss TV that much (I gave up cable, choosing instead to have internet service alone) because if I want I can relax in front of the computer and watch television shows streaming online. Currently I'm watching a pretty neat little Canadian show entitled "Being Erica." There are a few others I'd like to watch after that.

I'll have plenty of things to keep me busy. There are books I've wanted to read. I have plans for a couple furniture restorations and some more DIY projects around the house, as well as a resurgence in my genealogical pursuits.

I imagine I'll miss people eventually but for now, things are pretty sweet.

Song: "Movin' Out (Anthony's Song)" by Billy Joel. Lyrics here:
http://www.billyjoel.com/music/movin039-out-original-cast-recording/movin-out-anthonys-song ))

It's Time For A Few Small Repairs

Sometimes the choices we make are instinctive ones driven by some internal compass pointing us in a certain direction even if we're not completely aware of its motives for doing so. My impending move, a desire that has risen more and more to the surface in the last few months, is one of these.

Last week my roommate asked me in a delicate tone (as if worried how he was handling the question), "So....what made you decide to move right now?" It was obvious he was concerned whether my choice to move had been triggered by anything in particular that he'd done or hadn't done. I told him no, that it was simply the "right time" and that the enjoyment and readiness I'd felt in the two weeks I'd spent alone had been the real turning point in my decision making process.

All that was true, though an incident yesterday definitely put the stamp of internal, rational approval on my abstract feelings. I'd decided on a whim that after work I would go about 40 minutes out of town to pick up an IKEA chairbed that someone was selling on Craigslist for my new apartment. I have precious little furniture of my own since I left most of it with the exh when we parted. I know a lot of women would have taken a lot of stuff, but really? I'm happy I didn't. I get to purchase my own things now. Purely, wholly mine. It's fun!

Anyway, I picked up the piece and went out for a relaxing dinner. I'd just hopped back in my car when I got a call from the roomie. He asked if I was going to be home in time for dinner or whether he needed to fend for himself; I told him where I was and to do what he needed to do. A brief frisson of irritation passed through me (when he doesn't show up for dinner, I don't have any trouble eating without him!) and then I shrugged it off, thinking no more about it for the remainder of the trip home.

Then I learned why the roomie called to begin with. He'd been concerned about the pork chops I'd had marinating in the fridge. He'd apparently been looking forward to them, and had no doubt halfway expected to see them served as the main course for dinner.

Objectively, this makes perfect sense. In his place I would've thought the same thing given the same circumstances. That's not the issue, not really. It's just that for me, it illuminated another underlying aspect to all this, one that I've figured out I really no longer want to deal with.

I'm done with cooking for people.

I've spent nearly two decades cooking for people, and men in particular. Don't get me wrong here -- I love to cook, and the creation of good food is a real joy for me. When I think about the pleasure I get in making a meal for a bunch of friends or my daughter it puts a smile on my face, and when I get the urge to experiment, the kitchen is usually the first place I start. Oh, I do so adore the process -- the planning, the purchasing, the creation, the meal itself. I just don't adore it when it becomes an obligation. An expectation. A responsibility. Those three words sap all the joy away from what is normally one of life's more joyous pursuits.

That's how this roomie arrangement of ours has ultimately ended up. The roomie doesn't cook and I knew that going in (we've been friends a long time) so when we agreed to be roommates it was agreed that I'd do the cooking. I've held up to that part so far, but as of now, I'm done. I wish to remove myself from any further obligation towards the upkeep or continued provision of another grown human being.

My feelings about this aren't the roomie's fault (or anyone's) and I don't want to even allow myself to begin the process of placing resentment or blame where it doesn't belong. Been there, done that, and it sucked. I'm well aware this is more about me. It's an aspect of my personality that isn't bad or good, but simply IS. I need to attend to it before it grows in a direction I don't wish it to grow. Unlike before with the exh, I need to tend to my emotional garden and prune it back before it gets out of hand.

Oh yes, I'm ready. It was a good call.

((Song: "Sunny Came home" by Shawn Colvin. Lyrics here:
http://www.cowboylyrics.com/lyrics/colvin-shawn/sunny-came-home-10530.html ))

The Feeling Coming From My Bones Says Find A Home

My apartment search ended this weekend with my John Hancock on a great little one bedroom place both near my office and not very far away from where I'm living now. It's tucked away on a side street behind a suburban subdivision instead of on a busily traveled road. The complex is clean and well-maintained and feels safer than most of the places I've looked at so far. The price was right, I get to choose a color for an accent wall, and the best perk? The complex is paying a moving company to move my stuff from my current apartment to my new one. Score!

My BFF has made a joking comparison of my living situation. She says it's as if I'm coming full circle again from my youth until now. When I first moved out of my parent's home I moved in with a roommate. I then graduated to living by myself for a few years before marrying and settling in with my husband. Now I'm doing the same thing but in reverse. After my divorce I moved in with a roommate. Now I'm "graduating" again to my own place.

All this is true on its face, but I certainly hope this doesn't mean that my next "graduation" is moving back in again with my parents! Ha! The horror........

I'm so looking forward to this. My own place! Those two weeks without my roommate helped cement my desire for a space of my own and spurred me to decide to start looking. I can't wait to decorate and stamp it with my own personal style. Yeah, I know. I'm a big doofus. Bring it on!

((Song: "Seven Nation Army" by the White Stripes. Lyrics here:
http://www.whitestripes.net/lyrics/lyrics-elephant.htm ))